Vanilla
by Almost Lucy
Summary: Theo can smell vanilla. And all he sees is her.


She always smelled like vanilla. My favorite moment of every morning was burying my face in her hair and breathing deeply. That scent meant comfort, joy, and love. I remember, vividly, the first time we kissed; she even _tasted_ like vanilla. She used vanilla shampoo, vanilla lotion, vanilla body wash and vanilla perfume. It was her favorite scent. It became my obsession.

The first time I saw her dab vanilla from my kitchen cabinet onto her collarbone, I wanted to lick it off. She had just spent the night at my flat for the first time. We were going to spend the day shopping in muggle London. She was dressed in white skinny jeans and a white dress shirt that was mine when I was younger, in Hogwarts. I thought she looked delicious- and then she put vanilla on. We were delayed almost an hour in leaving.

I press my face into her pillow and inhale. The blue slip smells strongly of vanilla and a scent that is all her. A tear slips down my right cheek. I shuffle to the kitchen and see her there. In a white, sleeveless dress she dances around the kitchen cooking a breakfast for us to share. The scent of vanilla wafts over to my nose. She turns to smile at me and she is gone. I take the bottle of vanilla from the cupboard. It is not the same bottle I first saw her use so long ago, she never even touched this container. But still I can see her press her finger just inside and wipe it along her delicate collarbone. I throw the container away; I don't want to see it.

I come home late from work and eat a cheese sandwich for supper. Later, I find the whiskey is all gone. I usually try to drink her sent away, hit it invades even my most drunken stupor. I get a bowl of ice cream from the ice box, vanilla. My favorite used to be chocolate, but now I find everything but vanilla bland and unsatisfying. The ice cream slides slippery cool down my throat and I remember heat. Bodies sliding against each other, my tongue darting out to taste her. Her feet, the backs of her knees, her belly, her breasts. I am overwhelmed. I am drowning in a cloud of love, lust and vanilla.

The first time I spent the night at her flat she conjured a toothbrush for me. I borrowed her paste, it was vanilla flavored, I laughed and she blushed. She always hated mint.

Once, when I stayed a night with her, I used her shampoo. For the rest of the day I would occasionally catch a whiff of vanilla. It was the most distracting thing. I spaced out in a board meeting. A coworker, Ryan, later asked me what was wrong. All I could sway was "I smell like vanilla". He laughed, slapped me on the back and said, "It must be love", then walked away. I sat in shock for a moment. Love? I liked spending time with her. And not like with some of my old girlfriends that I only liked during sex. The sex was great, the best I'd ever had, but it was more that than. I went a little slack jawed for moment thinking about her naked in my bed. But then I remembered one night, a week prior when she had stayed over at my flat. We had spent the entire evening talking, then went to bed and fell asleep. That was it. I remembered thinking, as I held her sleeping in my arms, that it was the best feeling in the world. My jaw dropped again. I was in love! I was subsequently useless for the rest of the day.

She told me she loved me three weeks after I realized my feelings for her. She always was braver than me. I still hadn't worked up the nerve. We were sitting curled up on her couch, glasses of wine forgotten on the coffee table. I was glorying in holding her. Then she just said it. I was shocked and said the first thing that crossed my mind. "You do? Why?" She looked up at me from her place in my arms; I must have looked like an idiot, and smiled. "Because even when you make me cry, I never want to leave you." Then she smiled and leaned back against my chest. I was dumbfounded. No one had ever loved me like that. "Will you marry me?" I blurted out the question before I realized what I was saying. She giggled. I flushed, realizing I still had not yet told her I also loved her. "I love you! I've been wanting to for weeks, to tell you I mean. I was afraid I would scare you away by moving too fast, or you would laugh at me. You are laughing at me." "I truly do love you Theo, mad Slytherin that you are." She giggled madly and pulled my head down for a kiss. I sighed happily I _was_ quite mad, but she love me anyway. Life was perfect.

She didn't agree to marry me for another seven months. I asked occasional, but was never too disappointed she turned me down, because she never left. Of course she always followed her "no" with a mind blowing kiss, so I never remembered that I had asked her for a couple hours anyway. When she finally said yes, I threw my arms around her and kissed her like crazy. And then had to extricate the ring from her hair where it had gotten caught because I hadn't put the ring on her finger yet. I have always loved digging my hand into her hair when we kiss. I was embarrassed, but she only laughed.

Her death was senseless, a case of the wrong place at the wrong time. When the auror on site said that to me I punched him in the jaw and beat him until Harry pulled me off. They had to sedate me for a full twenty four hours.

The first time I walked into my flat after she died, I looked everywhere for her. How could the brightest witch of our age have been killed during a petty robbery? I see in my dreams what must have happened. She walked back into the shop twenty minutes after closing to fetch her forgotten bag and surprised a thief at the counter. Her wand was in her bag. She bled to death. They said it took ten minutes at least. Ten minutes while I sat at home waiting with dinner on the table, impatient that she was taking so long.

I went on a date last week with some girl whose name I can't remember. I left before the first course was over. She smelled like raspberries and I couldn't stomach the scent. Blaise tried to get me to try again, but I can't. How can I forget her? Everything I see reminds me of her. White is everywhere, the walls of my office, the walls at home, and my shirts. And all I can see is her that morning in my kitchen wearing all white and putting on vanilla.

I roll over in bed and stare at the vanilla colored ceiling. Today is Saturday. Saturday was our day to spend just the two of us alone. Weekdays were for work and Sundays was for the Weasley brunch, but on Saturday I had her to myself. Sometimes we went to the open air market she loved so much, sometimes we visited a museum and sometimes I never let her out of bed. I fed her vanilla ice cream when she got hungry and buried myself in her scent.

Draco and Pansy say I need to move on. I've been like a zombie since she died. They say it's time. But how can they determine how much time is enough. It's been barely a year and still she haunts my dreams, waking and sleeping. No, today I'll lie here in my bed and breathe in the scent of vanilla.


End file.
